


The Road Less Travelled By

by HazelBeka



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anbu Umino Iruka, Anbu Yamato | Tenzou, Discord: Umino Hours, Found Family, Gen, Kakashi adopted Naruto, M/M, Plot Driven, Sharingan Iruka, seals master Kakashi, the butterfly effect is not as pretty as it sounds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelBeka/pseuds/HazelBeka
Summary: Fifteen years ago, Kakashi turned his back on the future Konoha had planned for him. He took up the study of seals and became an expert in defence. When the war came, he didn’t go to fight but two of his friends did. Only one came back.Five years ago, Iruka witnessed a massacre. He left with a child in his arms and an eye clenched safely in his fist. Only one other person walked away from the Uchiha compound that night: a man with blood on his hands and an old grudge still to settle.Yesterday, someone from both their pasts was spotted too close to the village for comfort. After all this time, what does he want? And what will it take to stop him?
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, Uchiha Sasuke & Umino Iruka
Comments: 84
Kudos: 226
Collections: The Umino Hours Quarantine Boredom Buster





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gloomier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloomier/gifts).



Kakashi picked up a piece of chalk and drew a large symbol on the blackboard. He turned back to the classroom, empty apart from a single student who was sitting in a patch of afternoon sunlight that sloped in through the large windows. Two pairs of footsteps passed by outside the classroom door, followed by a faint laugh, but otherwise the building was the special kind of quiet only achieved when the students had gone home.

“Do you remember this one?” Kakashi asked.

Sakura nodded. After class had finished for the day, she’d moved from her usual seat to one of the front desks, no longer as shy as she’d been when she’d first plucked up the courage to ask Kakashi for extra tutoring.

“The main symbol is a barrier seal,” she said, scrutinising the neat chalk lines. “But it’s got an extra symbol at the bottom. Barrier and…movement?”

Kakashi nodded. “So what do you think it does?”

“A barrier that…moves? Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “Because normally a barrier stays in one place, but this one will move with you so you can run around and keep fighting!”

“Or find a hiding place,” Kakashi agreed. “Since you’ve got a good grasp of the most common base symbols now, I thought we could move on to compound seals. How to combine the symbols and why you might want to do that.” He paused, seeing the oncoming question in the way Sakura leaned forward.

“Um, first, Kakashi-sensei, I wanted to ask you something.”

Kakashi gestured for her to go on. She hesitated, not as forthright in their one-to-one sessions as she was during class, but he waited patiently. Sakura had always been the top student in his class when it came to theory. He didn’t buy into the idea that there was no such thing as a stupid question but if Sakura had ever asked one then he couldn’t remember it. She had a knack for teasing a subject apart and then poking at the seams.

“ _Why_ does that symbol make a barrier?” she asked, and Kakashi felt the corners of his lips curl up, although Sakura couldn’t see his proud smile behind the mask. “I mean…how did anyone know that drawing that shape would make a barrier?”

Kakashi leant a hip against his desk and spread his hands.

“That’s some high-level theory you’re asking me to explain,” he said. “I think it might be a little beyond you right now.” 

Sakura looked disappointed, and Kakashi was thrilled all over again that he was getting to teach his favourite subject. Seals theory was not covered on the academy curriculum, which was just as well because he winced at the idea of trying to teach his whole class, but he’d always wondered what it would be like to take on an apprentice. When Naruto was younger, Kakashi had hoped he’d develop a taste for it, but he’d known deep down that it was unlikely. Naruto took after his father more than his mother that way.

Before he could continue with his lesson, he heard another pair of footsteps in the corridor outside, this time accompanied by a loud voice. Speak of the demon fox.

There was a polite knock on the door, which opened when Kakashi called out an invitation. An ANBU with a familiar mask and a high ponytail stepped into the room, blond ten-year-old tucked neatly under one arm. Naruto wasn’t struggling but he was keeping up a litany of complaints that didn’t seem likely to stop any time soon.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka said, “I found something that belongs to you.”

Kakashi sighed and gestured for Iruka to drop Naruto, which he did with more care than Naruto probably deserved considering he’d been picked up by ANBU. Again.

“What’s he done this time?” he asked.

“I was doing _homework_ ,” Naruto said, shooting an injured glance at Iruka. “Kaka-nii, tell him! You told us to design a trap!”

Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I told you to write a short paragraph _describing_ a trap. With a diagram.”

Sakura was leaning forwards on her desk, watching curiously. Naruto belatedly noticed her and stood up straighter, crossing his arms.

“What’s the point of writing essays? I’m developing my practical skills,” he said, and Kakashi could hear the quotation marks in that last sentence. It was probably something he’d said in a moment of ill-advised pedagogy. “I should get extra marks!”

Kakashi looked at Iruka. “Was it a good trap, at least?”

“I’d give it a B minus,” Iruka said. “A trip wire should not be placed in direct sunlight. I saw it glinting from a good thirty feet away. The smoke bomb was a nice touch though.”

Naruto pouted. “I’ll get you one day,” he threatened, and kept glowering when Iruka patted him on the head.

“You tried to trap an ANBU?” Sakura asked, sounding unusually impressed.

“Yeah! And I almost got him too!” Naruto bounded over to her, and Kakashi took the opportunity to sidle over to Iruka.

“Do you memorise the schedules of all the academy teachers or am I just special?” he asked.

Iruka rested a hand on his hip.

“You told me you’d be tutoring after class on Tuesdays.”

“And you remembered. I’m honoured.”

Iruka snorted but didn’t make any move to leave.

“You could have just taken him home though,” Kakashi added. “It’s not like you don’t know where we live. Or did you have an ulterior motive for bringing him straight to me?”

Behind him, Naruto was chattering loudly, oblivious to their conversation, and Iruka glanced over at him before he replied.

“I need to talk to you. In private.”

There was a seriousness in his tone that Kakashi hadn’t expected.

“About Naruto?”

Iruka shook his head but didn’t expand.

“All right. Give me a second to chase off the kids.”

Naruto didn’t notice Kakashi approach until Kakashi’s hands came down on his shoulders. He let out an undignified squeak and Kakashi grinned.

“Sorry, Sakura, but I’m going to have to cancel the rest of today’s class. We can move it to tomorrow instead if you’re free.”

Sakura looked genuinely disappointed but she nodded and started packing away her things.

“Here.” Kakashi pulled a thousand yen note out of his pocket and handed it to Naruto. “Why don’t you buy Sakura an ice cream or something? It’s a nice day, you should both go play outside.”

Naruto grabbed the money, practically vibrating in excitement. He was still new at this making friends thing, despite Kakashi’s best efforts. Having his adoptive parent as his teacher hadn’t done Naruto any favours – not that he’d have fared much better in a different class. Kakashi had done his best, including one particular history class that had almost got him fired. He hadn’t outright said what role Naruto had played in the night of the kyuubi attack, but he had mentioned that the son of the fourth hokage was sitting in the classroom, and the shade Naruto’s cheeks had turned had been enough for the brighter kids. Some of them had bullied him harder after that, but a couple had started talking to him on the playground at break. Kakashi still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice, but as he watched Naruto and Sakura leave the classroom side by side, he felt a little less conflicted.

Once they’d gone, he shut the door and waited until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

“So what brings Sharingan Iruka to my humble classroom?” he asked.

“Don’t call me that when I’m in uniform,” Iruka said with the tired tone of someone who has repeated the same phrase a thousand times.

Kakashi crossed over to him and pulled the mask off his face, revealing Iruka’s startled expression.

“Now you’re not in uniform,” Kakashi said, holding the mask up out of Iruka’s reach when he grabbed for it.

“You can’t just take that,” Iruka spluttered. He rose up on his toes and grabbed for the mask again but Kakashi rose onto his toes too. “Damnit, Kakashi, you are such a – a child!”

“You like children,” Kakashi pointed out. “So I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Iruka glared at him. He had a very fierce glare for someone who kept one eye hidden under a patch, although Kakashi had once been treated to a sharingan glare and hoped never to be on the receiving end ever again. The one-eyed glare, however, was endearing. It was especially charming from only a few inches away, although he didn’t have long to enjoy it before Iruka gave up on his mask and took a step back, huffing pointedly.

“One of these days you’re going to get me fired,” he said, turning slightly so his back was facing the window.

“You’ll never get fired,” Kakashi said. “You got away with picking Fox as your code name. I’m pretty sure that makes you untouchable.”

Iruka’s expression changed into something just as feisty but less angry. Almost smug. “It’s still controversial,” he said. “But being on good terms with Sandaime does wonders to pave the way. Who says favouritism is a bad thing?”

There was a noise from outside, and Iruka tensed, but it was only a pigeon landing on the windowsill. It flapped its wings, making itself comfortable, and then settled down against the glass.

“It’s fine,” Kakashi said. “Just a bird.” He lowered the mask, but Iruka didn’t take it. “What did you come here for, Iruka?”

Iruka looked away. He didn’t speak for a long moment, which was unlike him, and Kakashi felt a tingle of concern.

“Obito was sighted not far from the village yesterday,” Iruka said.

Of all the things Kakashi had been expecting, that wasn’t one of them. He hadn’t heard Obito’s name spoken for so long that the sound of it was like a physical blow, leaving him winded. Iruka watched him silently, waiting.

“Where?” Kakashi finally asked.

“Some workers spotted him near a farm five miles away.”

Five miles. That was too close. Kakashi rubbed a hand across his face, suddenly feeling a prickle of sweat under his arms.

“You’re sure it was him?”

“Positive,” Iruka said.

He didn’t elaborate – probably wasn’t supposed to be telling Kakashi even this much – but he didn’t have to. Obito was infamous enough that no one would mistake him. Not after what he’d done to the Uchiha clan.

“They’re sending me out tomorrow to go search for him,” Iruka said, and Kakashi frowned.

“Alone?”

“Of course not. Tenzou’s coming with me.”

“Just the two of you?” Kakashi couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. “Iruka, he’s dangerous.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Iruka said flatly. He looked away, but he had an expressive face and Kakashi could read the stress on it. “But the priority is keeping him out of the village. If he gets inside, we’re going to need everyone we can spare.”

“They’re using you as bait. Because of that damn eye.”

By the tightening of Iruka’s lips, the thought had occurred to him too.

“Let me come with you,” Kakashi said, and Iruka’s eyebrows shot up.

“You can’t just – you can’t tag along on an ANBU mission, Kakashi!”

“Why not?” Kakashi took a step closer. “When it comes to defence, I’m the best there is. I can keep you safe.”

Iruka’s gaze softened but didn’t lose any of its anxiety. He rested a hand lightly on Kakashi’s arm.

“Obito has more reason to come after you than me,” he said. “We don’t know why he’s here. And unless you’ve finished that genjutsu-repelling barrier then I don’t see what you could do against the sharingan.”

Kakashi chewed the inside of his cheek, annoyed at himself. The barrier had been his pet project for years but he still hadn’t cracked it. It was the one problem he couldn’t seem to solve. 

“I still haven’t finished it.”

Iruka squeezed his arm and let go.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Besides, you can help me from here. You can keep an eye on Sasuke while I’m gone. ANBU will be watching his home, but he’ll be here with you at school for most of the day. He’s the one I’m worried about.”

“Have you told him?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka looked troubled by the question, and Kakashi knew the answer before he spoke.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know if I should.”

“You have to,” Kakashi said. “If Obito’s come back to Konoha, it’ll be to finish what he started. Whether he’s here for the sharingan or the Uchiha bloodline, Sasuke’s in danger either way.”

“I can keep Sasuke safe,” Iruka said. “He doesn’t need to know. We’ve already upped the number of shinobi guarding the gates. There’s no way Obito can sneak back in if we’re expecting him.”

Kakashi could remember all too well the kind of boy Obito had been and the kind of man Kakashi had expected him to grow into. Loud, impatient, terrible at subterfuge. Until the night he’d shown himself to be someone else entirely.

“Don’t count on it,” he said.

  


* * *

  


Night had fallen by the time Iruka finished his shift. He changed into his civilian clothes in the ANBU offices and then walked slowly through the streets, trying to fool himself into thinking he was going home. He stopped by the supermarket and picked up enough food for two and then found himself turning right instead of left, starting the long walk towards the clan houses in the east of the village. Eventually he found himself outside the familiar gates to the Uchiha compound, where he stopped and, as always, hesitated for a long moment before pushing his way inside. The wards buzzed against his skin, and he thought their acceptance was as grudging as their master’s.

The sun had set an hour ago, but it wasn’t late enough that Sasuke would be in bed yet. A single light was on in the main building, the rest of the compound cloaked in darkness. Iruka kept his gaze on the lighted window, although tonight, with the sighting of Obito still fresh in his mind, no distraction was enough to keep his memories from ghosting across the ground before him. He stepped through phantom bodies and tracked their blood all the way to the front door.

He knocked before fishing out his key and letting himself in. Sasuke didn’t come to meet him, but Iruka didn’t expect him to.

“It’s me,” he called down the hallway as he slipped off his shoes. There was no response.

Iruka left the bags of food in the kitchen and then made his way to the living room, the door ajar and dim lamplight spilling through the gap. Sasuke was curled up in an armchair, a book in his hand, although he looked up when Iruka entered the room. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Iruka asked. “I brought some groceries.”

“You don’t need to keep coming over,” Sasuke said. “I keep telling you I can take care of myself. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Iruka restrained himself from pointing out that Sasuke had only just turned eleven.

“I know,” he said instead. “I don’t come here because I think I have to.

“Yes you do,” Sasuke said. He looked back down at his book but his gaze was fixed on one spot on the page.

As always, Iruka groped for the right words and came up with nothing. He liked to think he was good with children. He got on well with Naruto, and when Sasuke had been very small Iruka had been his babysitter from time to time. There hadn’t been any friction between them then. Sasuke had been a sweet kid: quick to smile, easy to please.

One night had changed all that.

“I’ll go cook dinner,” Iruka said. It was a cop out, he knew. Sasuke knew it too, and Iruka felt resentful eyes on him as he left the room, but he didn’t know what Sasuke wanted from him. God knew, he’d asked. He’d tried everything. But somehow he still couldn’t get it right.

It took twenty minutes of chopping vegetables and trying not to burn them in the wok before Sasuke slunk into the kitchen. He didn’t say anything, just stood near the door and watched. There was something expectant about him, a hunger that had nothing to do with the food.

“I was talking to Kakashi earlier,” Iruka said. “He said you’d got the top score in last week’s practical exam.”

Sasuke mumbled something and looked at his feet.

“You’re doing really well,” Iruka said, voice softening. “Though you know I’d be proud of you no matter what scores you got, right?”

Sasuke stiffened. Apparently Iruka had said the wrong thing. Again.

“You’re not my brother,” Sasuke said, and Iruka stopped stirring the food, just for a second, before he collected himself and carried on.

“No. I’m not.”

For a while, the only sound was the sizzling vegetables.

Since he’d spoken to Kakashi earlier, Iruka had been toying with different combinations of words, trying to tease out a way to tell Sasuke that the man who’d murdered his family had been seen near the village. He’d mulled it over all evening, long enough to get lost in the labyrinth of abandoned sentences, but he was no closer to finding a way to say it out loud. Still, he had to tell Sasuke something.

“Sasuke,” he said slowly. “I’m leaving on a mission tomorrow. I won’t be going far, but I might not see you for a few days.”

Sasuke scowled and scuffed at the floor with his foot.

“Again? You just got back from the last one.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sasuke muttered. “I’m fine on my own.”

Iruka’s heart went out to him. No wonder Sasuke was angry. Five years ago when Iruka had scooped him out of the blood and carried him out of that abattoir, he’d sworn he’d look after him. He’d taken the boy home, tried his best, but he’d only been seventeen – barely more than a boy himself – and once he’d gained the sharingan he hadn’t been allowed to resume his path as a keen but average chuunin. He’d been given mandatory training and fast-tracked to jounin, then ANBU. He hadn’t had time to take care of a five-year-old child, and Sasuke had been taken from him, first to the orphanage, and then allowed to stay at his family home after he’d run away at the age of eight.

Sometimes Iruka envied Kakashi. The village had blocked him from adopting Naruto for a long time, hoping to force him away from the ‘soft skill’ of seals and back to a more traditional route to jounin. Kakashi had responded by becoming a teacher, and then one day he’d simply taken Naruto home after class and that had been that. Iruka admired him for it, wished he’d also had the strength to fight the destiny thrust upon him. But he hadn’t, and Sasuke had suffered for it.

In light of that, maybe he owed it to Sasuke to tell him about Obito. To arm him with the knowledge even if it hurt him. He plated the food slowly, stalling, the words heavy on his tongue.

“Iruka,” Sasuke said suddenly. “I have homework.”

Or maybe Iruka owed him the last vestiges of a normal life. The illusion of safety that Iruka would die to uphold if he had to.

“We’ll do it together after dinner,” he said.

Sasuke nodded. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then he caught Iruka’s waiting eye and turned away. He left the kitchen, carrying his steaming meal through to the dining room, a tacit acceptance that they’d eat together tonight at the table.

Iruka watched him go. The distance between them felt unpassable. Maybe his decision to keep quiet would close it even an inch, or maybe he’d lengthened it further. A movement in the corner of his eye made him turn, thinking he’d seen a pale face at the window, but it was only his own reflection, wan under the electric light. He reached out and flipped the switch, and the room darkened.

From the dining room, Sasuke called for him impatiently. Iruka picked up his plate and followed him through, treading in the footsteps of dead men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a prompt fill for the lovely Gloomier who asked for a role reversal, ANBU Iruka and sharingan Iruka. I actually already had a vague plan to write something swapping Iruka and Kakashi's roles but I'd envisioned it as a cute little barrier seals oneshot. Then I stupidly asked myself 'so whose eye does Iruka have?' and as a result I tripped over a body in the Uchiha compound and fell down a rabbit hole. The result was mostly backstory and eventually I figured out a plot to prop it all up. I hope you enjoy it, Tea <3 More will be delivered soon.


	2. Chapter Two

Kakashi had the dream again that night.

The landscape before him was swampy, a low mist wreathing around his knees. He was splashing through the marshy ground, aware that he was moving too clumsily, too loudly, but he had to find them. The mud sucked at him, slowing him down, and he kicked at it in frustration. It was already too late. He _knew_ it was too late, but he couldn’t stop. Not now when they were so close.

A scream cut through the trees and Kakashi tried to run. Even in the dream he was overcome by déjà vu. He’d lived this moment so many times and it always ended the same way. And yet not once had he given up. Not yet.

Ahead of him, through the foliage, he saw figures moving. Two of them he knew. A boy with pale skin and dark hair, and a girl with red, red, everything red.

“No!”

Too late. Always too late.

Obito turned to him as he stumbled into the clearing.

“You weren’t here,” he said. “Why weren’t you here?”

Kakashi woke to the smell of singed toast and frying eggs. The morning sunlight crept in around the edges of the curtains, pale and gentle. From the kitchen, he caught a snatch of Naruto singing and from outside the trill of a bird.

He sat up, wincing at the sweat under his arms, and rubbed his eyes. He’d expected the dream after Iruka’s news, had expected it to be more vivid, even. It had been a while since he’d seen the version in the swamp. Often his subconscious brought the war into places it had never reached: the woods outside Konoha, the village streets, beneath the Hokage Mountain. Obito had never described to him the place where Rin had died, and Kakashi had never been there. All he saw in his dreams was an artist’s impression of a tragedy he might have prevented.

Naruto’s footsteps came down the hallway and then the door was flung open without a knock.

“Hey, Kaka-nii, are you still sleeping?”

“I’m up,” Kakashi said, his voice hoarse. He coughed and tried again. “Are you burning breakfast?”

“You can scrape the burnt bits off,” Naruto said primly. He leaned against the doorframe and gave Kakashi a more scrutinising look. “Did you have the bad dream again?”

What had given him away? Kakashi was so used to wearing his mask that it took him aback when Naruto read his expression like that, no matter how many times he did it.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “You’d think I’d get used to it, huh?”

Naruto came into the room, mindless of whatever he’d left cooking, and sat on the bed next to Kakashi, then threw his arms around him and squeezed.

“Ew,” he said. “You’re all gross and sweaty.”

Kakashi returned the hug and patted Naruto’s head.

“Yeah and now you’re all gross and sweaty too.”

They stayed like that for a little while. When Kakashi had first brought Naruto home, he’d never thought he’d get used to this. He’d been bad with physical affection, long used to being alone, but Naruto had been starved of it and as soon as a viable family member appeared, he clung tight at every opportunity. It had been almost five years since they’d moved into the Hatake compound together, and somehow in that time Naruto had managed to make the building feel like home again.

“I think your eggs are burning,” Kakashi said, and Naruto stiffened.

“Crap!”

He leapt up and ran out of the room, footsteps pounding on the wooden floors, but his warmth lingered after he’d gone. Kakashi waited until even that had faded and then he climbed out of bed and pulled off his damp shirt, realising that in Naruto’s presence he’d already half-forgotten the nightmare.

If only reality could be so easily erased.

  


* * *

  


Kakashi always made sure to arrive at the Academy early. A few of the children turned up a good hour before class started: those with parents who worked early shifts, and several who, for one reason or another, wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible. No matter how early Kakashi turned up, there was always at least one kid who’d beaten him to the school gates. Usually, that kid was Sasuke.

Today was no different. The early morning light was still filtering through pink-tinged clouds as Kakashi arrived at the gates, Naruto chattering nine to the dozen at his side – what Kakashi had done to raise such a morning person was beyond him – and Sasuke was skulking by the wall, alone. There were dark bags under his eyes, which was also normal. Kakashi wondered sometimes if he even slept.

“Hey, Sasuke,” Naruto said.

Sasuke looked at him but didn’t reply. This was just one more part of their morning routine, so Naruto carried on happily chatting, unphased by the silence. Sasuke trailed behind them as Kakashi led them over to the school building and unlocked the main door. Once inside, he sloped off towards the classroom alone, while Naruto followed Kakashi into the empty staff kitchen. Technically, students weren’t allowed back here, but if nobody else could be bothered looking after the early kids then Kakashi was the sole upholder of the rules until eight.

“Ooh, there’s cake,” Naruto said. He had found the clingfilmed plate of yesterday’s brownies with unnerving speed. “Can I have one?”

“You just had breakfast,” Kakashi reminded him as he set the kettle to boil and rummaged in the cupboard for his mug.

“I’m still hungry.”

“No you’re not,” Kakashi said, rolling his eyes. “Besides, you know the rule. No sugar before noon.”

“But Kaka-nii…”

“If you don’t whine, maybe I’ll steal you one for after school.”

Placated, Naruto tore his gaze away from the brownies and opened the fridge, presumably to seek out other tasty morsels he wasn’t allowed. The kettle clicked off and Kakashi poured the water into his French press and set it aside to steep.

“Hey, Naruto. Come here a minute.”

Naruto looked up from the fridge.

“Why?”

“I want to ask a favour.”

Naruto’s expression turned deeply suspicious.

“I’m not volunteering in class again. You nearly hit me with a shuriken last time!”

“I did tell you to keep still. But that’s not what I was going to ask.”

Kakashi glanced at the door and then tugged his mask down. He knew Naruto hated it, and he always responded better when Kakashi wasn’t wearing it. And Kakashi was about to ask a fairly big favour.

“Remember how I said Iruka might be gone for a few days?”

“I won’t get in trouble with ANBU while he isn’t here,” Naruto said at once.

“Well, good,” Kakashi said. “But actually I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Sasuke while he’s gone.”

Naruto groaned loudly. Kakashi waited out the dramatics.

“Why me?” Naruto whined. “He hates me. He hates everyone.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…troubled.”

“Yeah, troubled by all that hatred.” Naruto folded his arms on the counter and rested his head on them, pouting.

“Could you just try talking to him at break?” Kakashi asked, trying not to sound like he was wheedling. “Make sure he’s doing OK. You don’t have to hang out with him the whole day.”

“Why can’t you talk to him?”

“I’m going to, but I’m his teacher. He doesn’t want to talk to me. Besides, it would be nice for him to have a friend.”

“I’ve tried,” Naruto whined.

To be fair, he really had. Kakashi had done his best to nudge the two of them into each other’s orbit for years now, and nothing had come of it. It should have made perfect sense: two boys the same age, both of whom had suffered losses, both of whom were lonely. No one else in the whole class had as much in common, yet Sasuke refused to be drawn. He spent his time alone as much as possible, and when he was forced to interact with the other children he came out of his shell only to bait them. He could be an aggressive show-off and he seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of the other children. It didn’t help that his ninjutsu skills were leagues above most of the others, and practical classes frustrated and bored him in equal measures.

In the bad old days they’d have graduated him by now, but rushing kids through school so fast they could barely read and write wasn’t the done thing anymore. Becoming a teacher had brought it home to Kakashi how stunted his own childhood had been. He’d been a bit of a Sasuke in his youth, and he recognised now that he’d been taken advantage of. It was handy when the strong kids were orphans: there was no one there to stand up for them when they were whisked off into danger. If he’d trodden the path envisioned for him, he’d have been sent to fight in the war…but no, he wouldn’t think about that, not today. Shaking the could-have-beens from his head, Kakashi poured himself a cup of coffee and took a small, scalding sip to bring him out of his nightmares and back to the here and now.

“I’ll steal you two brownies if you try one more time,” he said.

Naruto frowned, but he glanced back over at the plate.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But just so you know, you’re the worst big brother ever.”

Kakashi sipped his coffee to hide his smile.

“Love you too, kid.”

  


* * *

  


Iruka woke early that morning. He’d slept badly the night before, as he always did in the Uchiha compound, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Sasuke alone. Sasuke had given him a knowing and unimpressed look when Iruka had fussed around the house doing chores until gosh, look at the time, he might as well just stay over. It wasn’t that he expected Sasuke to fall for the trick – God knew, he pulled it often enough – but it was the only way Sasuke would let him stay without an argument. No matter how transparent the game of pretend, playing it was the only way to get close enough to check up on him. Iruka could do that much.

He walked Sasuke halfway to school, which Sasuke bore with surprisingly little resistance. He even dragged his feet when they were approaching the fork in the road that would separate them. They paused to say goodbye, and when Iruka gently squeezed Sasuke’s shoulder, Sasuke didn’t pull away.

“I’ll come back soon,” he said. “Look after yourself while I’m gone, OK? If you need anything, Kakashi will help you out.”

Sasuke mumbled something and turned down the road that led to the village centre, but when Iruka had gone a little way in the opposite direction and glanced back, he’d caught Sasuke staring plaintively after him. If only he could stay and be the stable, stay-at-home parent Sasuke needed. But he wouldn’t trust today’s mission to anyone else, and so he hurried home, grabbed a few supplies, and then headed back into town.

He’d wanted to go straight out to search for Obito yesterday evening, but two other operatives had been sent instead: two sensors who would have more luck searching in the dark. Iruka assumed they hadn’t found anything since he hadn’t been summoned in the night. He hadn’t expected them to. Neither had the hokage, hence why Iruka was being sent out this morning as bait.

He changed into his armour at the ANBU offices and then made his way to the Hokage Tower for a last-minute briefing. Tenzou was already there when he arrived, and Iruka got the feeling he’d interrupted a conversation. Probably about him.

“Ah, Fox,” Sandaime said, beckoning him over. “Good, you’re here. I was just telling Cat that there’s been a slight development.”

Iruka tensed as he approached the desk.

“Has Obito done something?”

“No, nothing,” Sandaime assured him. “But there was another sighting this morning. In the woods this time, closer to the village.”

Iruka frowned behind his mask. Being seen even once was a surprising slip-up for someone of Obito’s level. But twice?

“Obito’s too good to be this sloppy,” he said. “He was ANBU. If he wanted to infiltrate the village he could have done it by now.”

Beside him, Tenzou nodded, as though Iruka had confirmed a thought he’d had.

“Unless he wants to be seen,” Tenzou said. “Have you thought, Sandaime-sama, that maybe he doesn’t want to come into the village. Maybe he wants to lure someone out.”

Both of them looked at Iruka, who felt a sick weight in his stomach.

“You think he’s here for me?” he asked. “Because of my eye?”

“It’s a possibility,” Sandaime said evenly. He opened a small tin of tobacco, busying himself with filling his pipe. Iruka knew from long acquaintance that this was a habit Sandaime had when he was thinking hard, so he didn’t interrupt.

The hokage’s office was a small room that always smelt faintly of tobacco and books. It caught the morning sun, which glinted off the ceremonial sword that hung on the wall and the silver fountain pen that sat on top of a ruffled pile of papers in the centre of the desk. Iruka had spent a lot of time in this room, first as a wild thing desperate for attention, and later as a chuunin with an eye patch, desperate to avoid it.

Sandaime had been a father figure to him for most of his life, but Iruka knew that came second, these days, to their official relationship. He was ANBU, and the hokage was his boss. Sandaime would not hesitate to put him in harm’s way, and so while Iruka admired the old man and felt a fondness for him, he had no faith that Sandaime would keep him safe.

“Are the wards on the Uchiha compound up to date?” Sandaime asked.

“Kakashi’s looked at them a few times,” Iruka said.

“Good. And I assume you’ve told Kakashi?”

Iruka hesitated, giving himself away, but Sandaime’s gaze was even.

“Yes,” Iruka admitted.

“That’s probably for the best. If Obito makes it into the village, I’ll make sure he and Sasuke are brought somewhere safe. In the meantime, the aim is to keep him outside the walls.”

“What do you want us to do if we find him?” Tenzou spoke up.

Sandaime’s hands stilled on his pipe.

“When Obito fled the village, he left a lot of questions in his wake,” he said. “I would dearly like to answer as many of those as I can. If possible, bring him back alive. But if not,” he looked up, met Iruka’s eye with a steady weariness, “if not, then bring him back dead.”

  


* * *

  


When the lunch bell rang, Naruto trudged out of the classroom, keeping an eye on Sasuke. He didn’t want to speak to him but he did want those brownies, so he might as well bite the bullet and go through with it now. Besides, promises were important. You couldn’t go around saying you’d do something and then letting people down, even if it meant being snarked at by Sasuke. Naruto didn’t ever want to let Kakashi down.

Kakashi beat him to it, however, and said Sasuke’s name as he passed, beckoning him over, and Naruto rolled his eyes and lingered in the hallway outside. The rest of the students filed past him, most not sparing him a glance. Naruto didn’t look at them either, staring down at the floor between his shoes and stepping on one of his laces, slowly tugging it looser. The footsteps and laughter faded away, leaving Kakashi’s low voice from the classroom the only sound.

“What are you hanging around here for?” a voice asked, and Naruto almost fell over in surprise.

Sakura was standing a few feet away, watching him. Naruto stared at her dumbly.

“Well?” Sakura asked. “Why aren’t you coming to lunch?”

Was she…waiting for him? They’d been spending more time together recently, it was true, but Sakura had her own group of friends and Naruto generally took his food outside and ate alone. It was against the rules, but none of the teachers stopped him, not even Kakashi.

“I’m waiting for Sasuke,” he said.

Sakura glanced towards the classroom. The door was half open, and Sasuke was in view, standing stiffly by Kakashi’s desk. Naruto couldn’t make out what Kakashi was saying, his voice quiet and muffled by that stupid mask. Sasuke wasn’t saying anything. He was staring down at the papers on Kakashi’s desk and scowling.

“Since when are you friends with Sasuke?” Sakura asked.

“I’m not. I just need to talk to him about something.”

Sakura glanced through the classroom door again and then leaned against the wall beside Naruto.

“OK,” she said. “We can wait for him. Maybe he’ll come eat with us.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Sasuke came out of the classroom a moment later. He saw the two of them, slowed, but then turned to walk past them without a word.

“Oi, don’t just ignore us,” Naruto said.

Sasuke stopped and turned back, surprise clear on his face. Even though he’d been the last student in the classroom, he hadn’t realised they were waiting for him. Naruto knew how that felt. He often thought he knew how Sasuke felt, and it irritated him.

“What do you want?” Sasuke asked.

Sakura stepped forwards before Naruto could open his mouth. “Come have lunch with us.”

Now Sasuke looked suspicious, and Naruto understood that too.

“Oh my God, just come on,” he said, grabbing Sasuke’s arm and tugging him along the corridor. “We’ve been waiting for _ages_ , I’m starving.”

Sasuke made a noise of protest but he didn’t stop Naruto from dragging him through the hallway and out into the playground. He only realised his mistake when he saw the confusion on Sakura’s face. Oh, right. Everyone else ate lunch in the hall. He’d come this way out of habit.

“Are we allowed to eat out here?” Sakura asked, looking around at the empty playground.

“Who’s going to stop us?” Sasuke asked.

He sloped off across the playground and onto the field on the other side, straight towards the trees where Naruto usually sat. Naruto exchanged a glance with Sakura, who looked just as surprised as he felt by Sasuke’s lack of resistance. They followed, and all three of them sat on the grass in the shadow of the trees, out of sight from the school windows.

“What was Kakashi-sensei talking to you about?” Sakura asked as she balanced a bento box on her lap.

Sasuke had his own lunchbox, in a surprisingly cheerful shade of green and filled with slightly singed leftovers. Naruto suspected that both the box and its contents were Iruka’s doing.

“Nothing he hasn’t said before,” Sasuke said drily. He turned to Naruto. “Did you grab me because he told you to?”

“No,” Naruto said, too fast. Sasuke stared at him flatly, and Naruto caved. “Yes,” he admitted. “He thought you’d be lonely while Iruka is gone.”

“Who’s Iruka?” Sakura asked.

“Iruka’s great!” Naruto said, leaning forwards and almost tipping his lunch over in his enthusiasm. “He’s Kaka-nii’s friend, he comes over all the time. He scolds me a lot, but sometimes when Kaka-nii’s busy after school, he takes me out for ramen.”

Sakura still looked confused.

“But he knows Sasuke too?”

“Oh yeah, he has one of those creepy Uchiha eyes,” Naruto said. “But he won’t let me see it. He’s always trying to look after Sasuke but Sasuke’s a jerk to him.”

The glare Sasuke gave him wasn’t his usual sulky look. This glare had fire in it. Naruto faltered, but then rallied himself.

“Well, you are,” he said. “He always looks sad when he talks about you.”

The force of Sasuke’s glare weakened.

“He talks to you about me?”

“All the time,” Naruto groaned. “It’s always Sasuke this and Sasuke that, and how’s Sasuke doing in school and does he have any friends. Blah blah blah.”

Sasuke looked down at his lunchbox. An ant was crawling up one of the sides, and he brushed it away, his finger lingering on the green plastic.

“He was friends with my brother,” he said. “They were on the same genin team.”

Naruto had been told many times in no uncertain terms to never talk to Sasuke about his family. So as much as he wanted to ask for more details, he restrained himself. He noticed Sakura shifting uncomfortably too. Everyone knew that Sasuke’s family had been killed but nobody ever spoke about it. Just like they never spoke about the demon fox locked up in Naruto’s body.

It seemed to Naruto that a lot of big and terrible things had happened that no one wanted to talk about. Like pretending they hadn’t happened would stop them being real. Adults were weird.

“So is Iruka like your family?” Sakura asked, and Naruto winced. “Like Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?”

Sasuke pushed his food around with his chopsticks, making a pile of rice and then watching it collapse.

“I don’t have any family,” he said.

“But Iruka looks after you?” Sakura pressed.

Naruto tried to catch her eye and signal somehow that this was a bad topic, but she was totally focused on Sasuke.

“I guess so,” Sasuke mumbled. He looked up at Sakura, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you out here with us anyway? You have your own friends.”

Sakura’s cheeks flushed and she glanced back at the school.

“Not anymore,” she said.

“Are you still fighting with Ino?” Naruto asked.

Sakura scowled. “She keeps calling me a nerd because I told her about my seals classes. And she told everyone else and now everyone thinks I’m a teacher’s pet.”

“You’re taking seals classes?” Sasuke asked.

Sakura fixed him with a fierce stare. “Yes. I’m studying seals with Kakashi-sensei after class. Are you going to call me names too?”

“No,” Sasuke said. “I don’t care what you do with your free time.”

Sakura looked like she wasn’t sure how to take that. While she was distracted, Naruto pinched a mochi from her bento box and popped it into his mouth. Sakura retaliated by stealing a strawberry from his.

“Sakura wants to be a seals master when she grows up,” Naruto said as he chewed. “I’m going to be hokage! Like my dad,” he added on a sudden impulse. 

It was the first time he’d acknowledged his parentage to anyone other than Kakashi and Iruka, but somehow in this strange little group it spilt out. He drummed his chopsticks nervously on his knee as he waited for a reaction. Neither of them looked surprised, only thoughtful.

“You don’t get to be hokage just because your dad was one,” Sasuke said dismissively. “You have to actually be a great ninja, not bottom of the class.”

Naruto bristled. “Oh yeah? Well, what are you going to do when you’re older, huh? You think _you_ can be hokage?”

Sasuke shook his head. He put his chopsticks down neatly together on top of his lunchbox and sat up straight, staring across the grass towards the academy wall as though he could see through it.

“I’m going to kill the man who murdered my brother,” he said.

  


* * *

  


Even after all this time, Iruka still got disapproving looks when he was wearing his mask, and the two chuunin guarding the village gates frowned at him as he passed. Iruka thanked them politely for their service, and their expressions stuttered, an edge of embarrassment creeping in.

“Stop teasing them,” Tenzou said once they were out of earshot. “If you didn’t want the attention you should have picked a different name.”

“Maybe I enjoy the teasing.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Tenzou sighed. “It’s all one big prank to you, huh?”

Iruka grinned, though Tenzou couldn’t see it.

“Me? Prank the village?” he said. “I’m shocked you’d think such a thing. It’s a very serious censorship protest.”

Tenzou just sighed again.

The woods outside of Konoha weren’t dense but they were large. They stretched all the way around the northern wall and most of the east where the ground rose into mountains, the trees changing with the altitude from maple and ash to fir and pine. Tenzou and Iruka left the village through the eastern gate, the hokage mountain rising directly before them, and turned off the main road onto a smaller track that wound through the trees. The ground was flat here at the base of the mountains, but if they kept to the path it would shortly begin to rise.

“There’s a lot of ground to cover,” Iruka grumbled. “This is not a two-person job.”

“If he’s really trying to lure someone out then he’ll be watching,” Tenzou said, keeping his voice low. “Or he’ll have left a trail.”

“One the sensors didn’t find last night.”

“Are you planning to complain the whole morning?”

“Yes.”

“OK. Let me know when you’ve got it out of your system so I can stop tuning you out.”

For the time being, they headed along the path, making themselves nice and visible. It was late spring, and the air was sweet and thick with pollen and the fresher, earthier scent of foliage. Iruka was grateful for the shadows of the trees, keeping the worst of the day’s heat at bay, but despite how picturesque the landscape before him was, he was tense. The trees were spaced fairly far apart, but some of the trunks were thick enough for a slim man to hide behind, and the branches were so thick with leaves that from a distance they were impenetrable.

“You’re jumpy,” Tenzou commented.

“You would be too if…” Iruka trailed off, distracted by a sudden movement in a tree, but it was only a pair of birds fluttering from branch to branch.

“If what?”

Iruka kept his gaze firmly on the scenery. There were so many shadows in the forest. So many tiny quivers in the undergrowth. They passed under a large oak and the sunlight was cut off completely. Iruka felt a sudden chill.

“If you’d seen what he did that night.”

Tenzou’s hand rested briefly on his shoulder, squeezing, but he didn’t say anything else.

They carried on for a way in silence until they’d gone far enough from the village that the path was narrow and overgrown, a trail the forest was slowly reclaiming, and there was little chance they’d run into anyone else. The ground had taken on a shallow uphill gradient, although the mountains were hidden by the trees. They hadn’t seen anything suspicious but Iruka still felt cold. His sharingan ached dully beneath his eyelid, remembering the time it had been a wound.

“We should split up,” Iruka said.

Tenzou glanced at him. “You sure?”

“I’ll flare if I need you. We won’t be too far apart.”

Tenzou considered it, then nodded. “All right. Don’t do anything stupid. And if nothing’s happened in an hour, flare anyway and I’ll come find you.”

“Will do.”

They both left the path, heading in opposite directions. The ground was more uneven among the trees, but it was clear enough to walk through, and Iruka wound his way between patches of wildflowers, unconcerned about getting lost. Now that he was alone, every sound seemed amplified by the silence. Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck, and he reached back to wipe it away with a gloved hand. There was a tension in the air, or perhaps only in his body, and even as he exhaled he felt like he was holding his breath.

When he was sure that Tenzou was a good distance away he stopped walking. The forest was quiet here. Quieter than it had been earlier. Iruka pushed his mask to the side, revealing his face. He didn’t wear his eyepatch under his mask, but his left eye was closed, still aching.

“Don’t you think you’ve stalked me far enough?” he asked.

A presence flickered into being behind him, the faintest hint of a chakra signature. It brought to mind the scent of blood, the weight of a body in his arms, the prickle of terror.

When he turned, Obito was standing ten feet away, as casually as though he’d been there all along.

“Sharingan Iruka,” he said. “Long time no see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: wow this is going to be a pretty dark fic  
> Also me: *keeps writing fluffy family feels* wait what how did that all get in there?


	3. Chapter Three

They found Itachi’s parents in their own front room, face-down on the floor with their throats slit. The walls were streaked with arterial spray but there was no sign of a struggle. It was as though they’d simply knelt down and waited for the sting of the knife and the death that had swiftly followed.

Itachi hadn’t made a sound. He’d stood and stared with wide, blank eyes until Iruka had recovered enough to grab him and tug him roughly from the room. Only then had Itachi come to life, pulling away and shouting his brother’s name, racing up the stairs before Iruka could stop him. Iruka had run after him, cold with the knowledge of the sight that must await them. God, Sasuke was only five, he couldn’t let Itachi see that.

But miraculously, a small voice had answered. Itachi flew straight to a spot in the wall of the first floor landing that looked to Iruka’s eyes no different than any other, but at a spark of Itachi’s chakra a door opened outwards, revealing the small boy curled up and crying inside. The first living person they’d found in the compound that night.

“We have to get him out of here,” Iruka said. His voice didn’t sound like his own; it was loud in the silent house. The whole compound was far too quiet for a killing ground where the blood was still warm. He didn’t know if he wished for a scream or dreaded one.

Itachi had leaned into the alcove and was trying to coax Sasuke out, but Sasuke only huddled up tighter, still crying. God only knew what he’d seen or heard. The inside of Iruka’s head was painted with the blood sprayed over the walls downstairs, and the still shapes of the bodies they’d passed in the dark outside. He hoped Sasuke was too young to remember this night, and envied him the forgetting.

Somewhere outside, a door opened and closed. It didn’t slam. It was calm and controlled, and it made every hair on the back of Iruka’s arms stand on end.

Sasuke’s crying suddenly seemed very loud.

“Quiet,” Itachi begged. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide and dark, and then back to Sasuke, shushing him with an urgency that only made Sasuke sob harder. “Please, be quiet.”

Iruka looked down the shadowed staircase, expecting any moment to hear the front door open and the steady tread of footsteps in the hall. The waiting itched at him and drove him into a half crouch, moving silently into one of the bedrooms. When he reached the uncovered windowpane, the glass black with night, he curled his fingers around the windowsill and slowly raised himself until he could peer down at the compound grounds below.

At first, all he saw were the hulking shapes of the buildings. Not a single light was on, the only glow the twinkle of streetlights from the village beyond the compound walls. The street seemed a different country, somewhere distant and safe and unreachable. As Iruka’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made out the shapes of the bodies lying neatly outside their houses, lined up in rows and face down with their arms tucked in by their sides. They hadn’t fought, and Iruka didn’t know what to make of that but it chilled him more than the blood that glistened wetly around them. Who, or what, could compel a whole clan to lie down and die in their own homes, without a single cry to alert passers-by to the tragedy unfolding only a wall’s width away?

Iruka’s body registered what else he was seeing before his brain did. His muscles tightened and his lungs stopped drawing in air, every part of him that could be still becoming so. There, in the open space between Itachi’s house and the next building, a lone figure stood. Iruka was almost positive it was a man, but he couldn’t tell much more than that. He was standing as if waiting for something – or as if listening. Behind Iruka, Sasuke cried and cried, and slowly, the man’s head turned towards the house.

Iruka didn’t know it then, but a timer had begun counting down the moment they’d entered the Uchiha compound. As steady and silent as a heartbeat, ticking down inexorably towards its end. Later, he would wonder if there had been a point where they still could have stopped it, or whether it was something bigger than them, something fated to happen in every possible world, if every branching choice they could have made would have brought them to this.

“He’s outside,” Iruka breathed, and with those two words maybe damned them all. Maybe saved two of them.

He heard the floor creak softly under Itachi’s feet but didn’t turn away, couldn’t take his eyes from the man watching the house below.

“I’ll distract him,” Itachi whispered. “Take Sasuke and run. I’ll be right behind you.”

_Tick tick_.

Iruka could have said no. He was older, but they both knew Itachi was stronger. He still could have said no, don’t go.

_Tick tick_.

“Be careful,” he said, and he managed to tear his gaze away and look back through the doorway at Itachi. “I can’t tell who it is, but he’s the one who did this. He must be.”

“Just promise me you’ll look after Sasuke,” Itachi said. “No matter what happens. Promise you’ll get him out alive.”

“I will.”

_Tick tick_.

Itachi nodded. It was too dark to make out his expression, but he must have been frightened. He was only thirteen and his parents were dead beneath them. He must have known that he might not see the next sunrise. But he went.

He disappeared down the dark stairway and Sasuke called after him, stretching a plaintive hand out of the alcove. Iruka gathered the small boy in his arms, held him tight, and listened as the front door opened.

_Tick_.

  


* * *

  


Obito’s face was covered in scars. It looked as though someone had pummelled him so hard that they’d damaged the bones and rent the skin, some of the wounds still healing. Iruka stared openly. In his years as a shinobi, and especially since he’d joined ANBU, Iruka had seen a lot of injured people, some who’d survived their ordeals and some who hadn’t. The damage to Obito’s face was raw and brutal, and Iruka didn’t think it had been made with the intent to kill. It had been made with the intent to cause pain. Lots of pain. Obito didn’t shy away from the attention, but scrutinised Iruka in turn.

“What happened to you?” Iruka asked.

Obito cocked his head to one side. “You don’t know?”

“Should I?”

“Two Konoha shinobi tracked me down,” Obito said. “Not too long ago. Not too far away.”

“Presumably they didn’t make it home.”

“No,” Obito said contemplatively. “Although I thought about sending the pieces back.”

In the soft morning sunlight, he looked older than he was. His clothes were dusty from travel and his voice scratchy from disuse. When he spoke about killing the men who had hurt him, he did so with the weariness of a man who’d killed so many he’d grown tired of it.

“I have to admit, I thought Konoha had given up on me long ago,” he said. “I didn’t expect anyone to come after me now.”

“You are in the Bingo Book,” Iruka pointed out. “There haven’t been missions to find you for years, but you can’t be too surprised if you’re attacked when you’re recognised. I’d have tried to kill you too if I’d bumped into you on a mission.”

“But you’re not trying to kill me now.”

“Not yet.”

Obito was still watching him closely. Sizing him up. Iruka wondered when Obito had first heard his name, and which rumours he’d heard attached to it. Which he believed.

“Why have you come back?” Iruka asked.

“I’m looking for something.”

“Something or someone?” Iruka asked sharply.

Obito raised an eyebrow. “A book,” he said. “An old workbook my jounin-sensei used for the last project she worked on before her death.”

That brought Iruka up short. He’d expected some link to the massacre, but Obito was referring to events that had happened five years earlier, on the night of the kyuubi attack.

“Kushina-san’s workbook?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

Obito was watching him closely, as though he expected Iruka to know what he was talking about, but Iruka truly didn’t have a clue.

“She was researching some seals when she died,” Obito said. “She left behind a book with all her notes and theories and experiments. I would like that book.”

“Why?” Iruka was still floundering, trying to make sense of what Obito was telling him. “Kakashi told me about you. He said you hated seals, that you thought they weren’t proper ninjutsu.”

Obito’s eyes narrowed, and Iruka thought he glimpsed the vestiges of some long-buried rage. “You know Kakashi?”

“He’s doing fine, if you were wondering, but I don’t think he’d be up for reminiscing about old times.”

As they’d been talking, Iruka had been taking a quick mental inventory of his weapons. He was happy to receive information if Obito was so willing to give it, but he sensed their conversation was coming to its natural conclusion. If Tenzou was nearby then Iruka hadn’t sensed him – and why would he be? It was likely he’d made it quite some distance away by now and wouldn’t realise anything had gone wrong until he sensed a flare of chakra. Until he reached them, Iruka would be on his own against a man who’d made ANBU while Iruka was still a genin. Obito was older, more experienced, and more ruthless. More importantly, he had two working sharingan eyes to Iruka’s single flawed hand-me-down.

Though the flaw in Itachi’s eye might be the only hope of making it out of this fight alive.

“Answer me one question,” Obito said. “Do you know where Kushina’s book is?”

“Why on earth would I know? I never knew Kushina-san and I don’t know a thing about seals.”

Obito’s gaze lingered on Iruka’s closed left eye. “You inherited everything else from the ashes of my family. But if you don’t have the book then we don’t need to waste any more time playing civil.”

And there it was. Iruka tensed, readying himself, a hand drifting towards the knife in his belt.

“You don’t need that,” Obito said. “I don’t intend to fight you.”

Once again, he brought Iruka up short.

“What do you intend?”

“To walk away.”

Iruka let out a bark of laughter.

“You can’t be serious. You think I’m going to stand here and watch you skip off towards the village?”

“There’s no need for you to die today.”

“You murdered my friend!”

And suddenly all that anger, long buried beneath the guilt and the grief and the years, came surging back. He had watched Itachi die that night, had lived with the knowledge that he might have saved him if he’d only kept him away from the compound. He thought he’d found some level of peace in the years since then, but it was a fragile peace, and staring into the face of Itachi’s killer was more than enough to shatter it.

Iruka opened his sharingan eye.

It burned hot, chakra sizzling and turning the iris red, and without Iruka willing it – without him needing to, because Itachi’s eye was always awake, always hungering – it began to spin the one genjutsu it knew. The only one it had ever known, despite Iruka’s repeated and desperate attempts to teach it something else.

The forest darkened, as though night had come early, and the trees blurred and clumped together until they were no longer standing in a forest at all but a shifting, liminal landscape where old shapes twisted into new, like a live thing sickening and mutating. Obito looked up at the familiar buildings forming around them, his own eyes flashing red. His hands came sharply together, trying to repel the genjutsu, but the shadowy shapes were not so easily exorcised. They continued to writhe and settle themselves into clearer outlines.

“No,” Obito said, with such vehemence that Iruka took a step back, his hands coming up defensively as Obito turned his crimson gaze on him.

There was a rasping sound, like a match being struck, and then a roar of chakra so intense that Iruka could taste it, sour and sulphuric at the back of his tongue. The illusion rippled and tore, a gaping hole of shadows within shadows, and then Obito was gone.

Iruka shut his eye, and the forest slammed back into reality, so abruptly that he staggered to catch his balance. He whirled around, ready for some counter-attack, but Obito was nowhere to be seen. Iruka couldn’t even feel his chakra signature anymore. It was as though he had simply stepped out of Iruka’s genjutsu and into some other reality of his own, leaving no trace he had ever been here at all.

“Fuck.”

Iruka turned in a circle, slower this time, searching for some clue as to which way Obito had gone, but then jerked his head towards the noise of someone moving through the trees. He tensed, but then he saw the flash of sunlight on ANBU armour and forced himself to relax.

Tenzou was at his side an instant later, glancing Iruka over before turning his attention back to the trees around them.

“Where is he?”

“He got away.” Iruka scowled, hating the taste of the words. “Some sharingan teleportation bullshit. He didn’t even try to fight me! He just…ran away.”

“Why would he do that?”

Iruka shrugged. He had his suspicions, though he didn’t voice them out loud. If Obito had heard the name Sharingan Iruka then he must have heard about Iruka’s genjutsu. If there was one person who couldn’t face what Iruka could do then perhaps it was the man who had inadvertently given him the gift he’d never wanted, the curse he couldn’t break.

But there were more important things to worry about then Obito’s reasons for leaving Iruka alive.

“We need to get back to the village,” he said, fixing his mask back over his face.

“You think he’s going to try and get in?”

“No,” Iruka said grimly, remembering again how Obito had stepped into nowhere. “I think he’s already inside.”

  


* * *

  


Kakashi was halfway through a taijutsu lesson on the Academy training field when the ANBU appeared. More worryingly, the headmistress was accompanying him, looking concerned and trying to hide it. Kakashi drifted away from the kids, who were partnered up and practising punches on large cushioned pads, although he kept his ears tuned for any cries of distress because you couldn’t trust the little buggers. The headmistress met him a good few metres from the class, the ANBU trailing behind and looking casual, though there was nothing casual about an ANBU crashing his class and Kakashi was instantly primed for bad news.

“You’re being summoned to see the hokage,” the headmistress said in a low voice.

“Now?”

“Right now,” the ANBU chipped in. He sounded as casual as he looked, and Kakashi didn’t believe it for a minute. “I’m going to kindly walk you over to the Hokage Tower. Fox is waiting for you there,” he added, and that chased away any arguments Kakashi might have wanted to make.

“Is he OK?”

“He’s fine. All four limbs still attached, ten fingers, ten toes.” He paused. “Actually, I didn’t count his toes but I’m guessing they’re all still there. He didn’t complain that he was missing any.”

Over the years, Kakashi had familiarised himself with as many of Konoha’s ANBU as he could. It was a hobby, really, to try and discover their identities. The ones with the bloodline limits and the showy jutsu were easy enough to figure out, and he’d steadily worked his way through the ranks, treating the whole organisation as a puzzle to keep his mind sharp when he was bored. As a result – to Iruka’s constant chagrin – he was generally regarded by ANBU as an irritating eccentric at best and a danger to village security at worst.

This particular ANBU was one of the few whose identities Kakashi was still working on. His mask was a simple spiral and his code name, intriguingly and somewhat bafflingly, was Snail. He didn’t seem to have any particular skills that made him stand out from his colleagues, and gave the impression of being an all-around average jounin, which Kakashi suspected was a well-crafted lie. He was the ANBU you sent when you wanted to lull someone into a false sense of security.

Knowing that, and knowing what Iruka had said about Obito, he was suddenly very worried. Especially when Snail added, “Oh, and we need to bring Uchiha Sasuke too.”

“I’ll grab him,” the headmistress said. “And I’ll take over your class for the rest of the day, Kakashi.”

“Thanks,” Kakashi said, though he didn’t take his eyes off Snail. As soon as the headmistress had left to pick her way through the sparring children, he took a couple of steps closer and asked, “It’s Obito, isn’t it? You’re sure Iruka is OK?”

“I saw him myself when he got back,” Snail assured him in a gentler tone. “Not a single scratch on him. I promise.”

Before Kakashi could ask anything else, Sasuke trudged up to them.

“Let’s go,” Snail said.

They didn’t move as quickly as Kakashi would have liked, to accommodate Sasuke, but no amount of speed would have been enough when he was worrying about Iruka. When they finally made it to the Hokage Tower, he was grateful that they went straight to Sandaime’s office and weren’t even made to wait outside. Snail knocked, and then a second ANBU opened the door and let them in. It was Tenzou, and Kakashi was glad to see that he didn’t look hurt either.

Iruka was standing by Sandaime’s desk, pristine in his uniform. There was a little dirt on his leg guards but otherwise he looked as though he’d merely been out for a morning stroll. Kakashi finally relaxed. They couldn’t have found Obito after all, which was both good news and bad.

Sasuke pushed past him and had trotted halfway to Iruka’s side before he remembered himself and slowed down.

“What’s going on?” he asked. He’d asked several times on the journey over, but Snail had distracted him by mentioning the rumour he’d heard that Iruka might soon be dating his teacher, and wouldn’t that be nice for him, and then Sasuke had spent the rest of the journey glaring at Kakashi.

Kakashi would be lying if he said it hadn’t distracted him just a little too.

“Kakashi, Sasuke-kun,” Sandaime said. He was sitting at his desk, looking grave. “I’m sorry to take you out of class but I felt it was imperative to warn you both immediately.”

Behind them, Snail had softly closed the door, and Tenzou was hanging back with him. Kakashi wasn’t sure if they were guarding the door or giving the rest of them space, but he was conscious that having three ANBU in the room was an unusual level of security.

“Warn us about what?” Sasuke asked. He turned to Iruka again. “Is this about your mission? Why are you back so soon?”

“I went to look for someone,” Iruka said. “And I found him but…now we think he might be inside the village.”

Kakashi stiffened. It was all he could do not to fire out a barrage of questions, but he held them all in for Sasuke’s sake.

Sasuke was still watching Iruka with suspicious confusion.

“Who?” he asked.

Iruka glanced at Sandaime, but the old man sat back in his chair and didn’t speak. Iruka removed his mask, laying it on Sandaime’s desk with a quiet clink of porcelain.

“Obito has come back,” he said simply.

The effect was not as dramatic as Kakashi had expected. Sasuke didn’t yell, he didn’t flinch, he didn’t say anything at all. Every line in his body straightened, and a muscle started working in his jaw, but he was as frozen as though he’d been hit by a paralysis seal.

“Sasuke?” Iruka asked gently. He took a step towards him, and Sasuke’s head shot up, his eyes shining and furious.

“You didn’t tell me! You went out after him and you didn’t tell me!”

“I’m sorry,” Iruka said. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Sasuke said hotly, but his hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists to try and stop the tremors but they spread up his arms. Kakashi could hear his teeth chattering.

“Sasuke.” Iruka crouched down in front of him and rested his hands on Sasuke’s shoulders, gripping tight as if to hold him together. “He won’t hurt you. I won’t _let_ him hurt you. I’m going to keep you safe and take care of this, I promise.”

“You didn’t keep my brother safe,” Sasuke said, and Iruka’s whole body flinched but he didn’t let go of Sasuke’s shoulders. Didn’t move away.

“He’s not alone this time,” Kakashi spoke up. “We won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

Sasuke didn’t even look at him. He was wholly focused on Iruka and on his own traitorous body. Behind his desk, Sandaime glanced over at the two ANBU by the door and made a small gesture.

“Sasuke-kun, you don’t need to stay and listen to the rest of this,” he said. “You can wait for us in the next room.”

Snail was already approaching, but Sasuke shook his head.

“No, I want to stay! I want to know what’s going on.”

“We don’t know what’s going on yet either,” Snail said breezily. Sasuke jerked round to look at him. “They’re going to talk a lot about boring things – trust me, Iruka will tell you everything you need to know when they’re done. In the meantime, why don’t you come sit with me and I’ll tell you lots of embarrassing stories about him.”

Sasuke turned back to Iruka, accusation in his eyes.

“It’s true,” Iruka said softly. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I promise.”

Sasuke turned without another word and let Snail lead him out of the room. Kakashi suspected he only went because he didn’t want to fall apart in front of an audience. Poor kid. Maybe there’d been a better way to tell him, but how did you lead up to that? Maybe ripping the plaster off and dealing with the fallout was the best way after all.

Once Tenzou had shut the door behind Sasuke’s retreating back, Iruka slowly stood up. He was staring after Sasuke with a lost look on his face that made Kakashi want to reach for his hand and offer him what little comfort his touch could provide. But this was the hokage’s office and they were both here as professional shinobi. Sentiment would have to wait.

“What’s the plan?” Kakashi asked, deciding to get straight to the point. “We do have one, don’t we?”

“Before we get to that, I have a question for you,” Sandaime said. “I didn’t only send for you to warn you, Kakashi. I’m sorry to raise a sensitive topic, but I need to ask you some questions about your former mentor.”

It took a great mental effort for Kakashi to shift gears from one past tragedy to another.

“Kushina-sensei? What does she have to do with this?”

“Obito asked me about a workbook of hers,” Iruka said. “It’s why he’s here, I think. He’s looking for it.”

Kakashi was dumbfounded.

“She never taught Obito seals,” he said, though they all already knew this. “I was the only one on our genin team who wanted to study them. Obito never cared then and judging by the things he said after Rin died…” He felt the curl of bitterness on his lips, swallowed it down. “Well, I doubt he’s had a change of heart since then.”

“He was looking for them,” Iruka insisted. “I don’t know why or what they were, but do you know what Kushina-san was working on before her death?”

“Of course I do,” Kakashi said. “It was her one big project. She’d been working on it since she and Minato got engaged, and when she found out she was pregnant she ditched everything else to try and get it done. She was trying to find a way to change the jinchuuriki seals to grant her more control over the kyuubi. The basic idea was to create something like a summons contract, though of course without the summoning aspect. She was afraid of losing control and hurting the people she cared about, and with the pregnancy she knew she’d have even less control over the kyuubi than usual…of course,” he finished, looking away, “she didn’t finish in time.”

There was a short, respectful silence for the dead before Sandaime spoke.

“I wasn’t aware of this,” he said. “Do you know what happened to her research?”

Kakashi shook his head. “I didn’t think of it for a long time after she died,” he said. “It only occurred to me after a couple of years, when Naruto was getting older and I suddenly thought – what if I could finish the seals, what if they could help him? But when I asked around, nobody could remember finding anything like that among her things. There was so much chaos after that night that I always assumed her workbook had got lost or been destroyed – or in the worst case scenario stolen by whoever wrenched the kyuubi out of Kushina-sensei that night. It’s not like we ever caught the guy who did it and he or she seemed to have an affinity for seals as well.”

“Why on earth would Obito be interested in jinchuuriki seals?” Iruka asked.

“I don’t know, but…” Kakashi turned sharply to Sandaime. “Naruto’s still at school.”

Sandaime was already nodding to Tenzou, who’d been so quiet that Kakashi had almost forgotten he was there.

“I’ll fetch him,” Tenzou said, and then he slipped out of the office and shut the door behind him.

Kakashi held himself back from following but he couldn’t stem his sudden anxiety. Iruka rested a hand on his arm, and Kakashi tried to focus on the here and now instead of imagining every terrible thing that could happen to Naruto if Obito found him before Tenzou whisked him out of class.

“I think we’re in agreement that Naruto and Sasuke are in danger while Obito is in the village,” Sandaime said. “You too, Kakashi. If Obito is after this book of seals then you’re the logical person to interrogate. It would be reasonable for him to assume you’d inherited the book, maybe even completed the work.”

“Then put the children somewhere safe and use me as bait,” Kakashi said. Iruka’s grip tightened on his arm but Kakashi didn’t look away from Sandaime’s level gaze. “It’s not like he doesn’t know where I live, and now we know he’s coming I can set up a trap for him.”

“You don’t have to be there,” Iruka said. He was frowning, glancing between Kakashi and Sandaime. “We can use a stand-in as the lure – an ANBU in a henge.”

“I’m better at defence than any of your ANBU and you know it,” Kakashi said flatly. “Better at traps, better at wards. You’ve tried to headhunt me for ANBU before, hokage-sama, you know I can hold my own as long as you give me some heavy hitters for back-up.”

“He wants to kill you!” Iruka protested. “He’s wanted to kill you ever since Rin –”

“That’s enough, Iruka,” Sandaime said. “Kakashi’s right. He can defend himself, and he’s the best bait we have.”

“Since I failed, you mean,” Iruka said, with bite that might have been directed at himself or at Sandaime, Kakashi wasn’t sure. By the way Sandaime looked at him, with kind but unyielding patience, he must have thought it was the former.

“You got the intel we needed to make our next move,” Sandaime said. “That isn’t failure.”

Iruka pursed his lips but didn’t argue further, recognising that the battle was lost.

“I want to be assigned to this mission,” he said instead. “I have a sharingan, I’m the most suited to face him. If Kakashi can stop him disappearing again then I can take him out, or at the very least I can stop him using genjutsu against us.”

Sandaime nodded. “Yes, I think that’s best. In that case, we should set this up as soon as possible. You two go to Kakashi’s compound and build your traps, I’ll have the rest of ANBU alerted and arrange for a couple more operatives to meet you on the grounds. There’ll be back-up stationed outside as well, of course. I doubt he’ll waste any time – we need to be ready by tonight.”

“And the kids?” Kakashi asked.

“I’ll find a safe place for them,” Sandaime said. “One of the clans might agree to take them in for a night.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time Obito has taken on a whole clan,” Kakashi pointed out.

“Last time he had help,” Sandaime said. “He wasn’t the only traitor in the Uchiha compound. But I take your point. I’ll discuss it with the relevant parties and let you know what we decide. We _will_ keep them safe, I promise you both that.”

Iruka looked as soothed by that as Kakashi felt. This village had a bad track record at keeping its citizens safe. But what else could they do? The enemy had bypassed their walls and if he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he was likely to kill until he found it.

The problem was, the thing he sought may not even still exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iruka: seals? Never seen one in my life, never heard of them  
> Me, in physical pain: Iruka...why
> 
> And we meet our old friend, the Mysterious Seals Research plot device. Were you really expecting anything else from me? Fools! I will never get tired of this.
> 
> I can only apologise for the huge wait between chapters, but the good news is that I've already written 2k of the next chapter so you probably won't have to wait another seven months for Chapter 4. Thanks for being patient with me <3


	4. Chapter Four

In an alternate universe, the mission to Kannabi Bridge went like this:

Team Kushina were still sent not with their jounin-sensei, who was needed for her seals expertise in the village, but with her husband, Minato, as a stand-in captain. Kakashi, in this version of events, had not become Kushina’s apprentice and had therefore honed his ninjutsu to jounin standard, or close. They’d always known he had it in him if he’d spent the time training.

When Minato was called to the front lines, Obito and Rin weren’t left without a captain because Kakashi was there and qualified to lead. In the most golden version of this moment, they were not ambushed by nin from Stone and they completed their mission without incident. In a more realistic splinter world they were still attacked, but with three of them instead of two they were able to fend off their enemies and escape to lick their wounds and wait for Minato’s return.

Even in the worst-case scenario, where Rin was still taken captive, it would have ended differently. Obito would not have had to rescue her alone. He would not have been caught in the act of untying her, would not have been too weak to fight back, would not have needed saving. When the boulder fell, Rin would not have had to push him out of the way. Kakashi could have snapped this chain of events at any of its links.

If Kakashi had been there, Rin would not have died.

This was the story Obito had told himself so many times in the years since that day that it had become an indisputable truth. He thought of it now as he stood in the shadows across the street from the Hatake compound – empty now – and he waited. And he watched.

  


* * *

  


It had been many years since the Hatake compound had been a no-go zone for Kakashi, but when he entered his home today, with the spectre of Obito haunting his thoughts, he found that his other ghosts had re-risen too. He passed the memory of his father in the entryway, outline blurred with the passage of time but smile still sad and sword still sharp. He heard Kushina’s sigh from Naruto’s room and thought of his own mother, long lost to his memory but there as a comforting presence, a constant might-have-been.

Rin haunted him with her absence.

Iruka couldn’t have known he was counting his dead, but he must have picked up on Kakashi’s mood because as soon as they were inside the house, he pushed his ANBU mask to the side.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” Kakashi said. “In fact, I hope he comes tonight. I’ve waited so long to be able to look him in the eye and ask him why he did it. I’ve always wondered what his family could possibly have done that made him kill them instead of me.”

“You want to take him alive then,” Iruka said. He was trying to keep his tone neutral, but Kakashi could hear the hint of disapproval.

“Isn’t that what Sandaime-sama wants?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka pursed his lips. “Yes, but I’d rather see him dead.”

“You know he’ll be executed once they’ve interrogated him.”

“I know, but I can’t relax knowing he’s in the village. He’s too powerful. Even if they locked him up and gouged out his eyes, I still won’t sleep easy until I see his body for myself. I’m sorry,” he added, looking away. “I know he was your friend.”

In a way, Obito had been the instigator of this friendship. When Kakashi had heard about the massacre, he’d sought out the one person – not counting the five-year-old child – who had been there and seen what Obito had done. It had taken a long time to track Iruka down – nobody would tell him Iruka’s name, nobody would tell him anything – and when he’d finally found the boy with a bandage over one eye, he’d understood that Iruka hadn’t walked away unscathed.

Iruka’s tragedy had been of a different sort than his. Iruka was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he’d paid for it in more ways than Kakashi. It wasn’t fair.

Kakashi tried every day, in a hundred small ways, to even the balance between them.

“You know, if we take him alive and you still don’t feel safe, you and Sasuke can come and stay here for a while,” he said.

That earned him a wry smile.

“A little forward to ask me to move in before we’ve even been on a date,” Iruka said, and despite everything, Kakashi felt a hopeful little flutter in his chest.

“Doesn’t this count as a date?” Kakashi asked. “Plotting the downfall of our nemesis and furnishing my home with traps together?”

Iruka laughed. “Romance isn’t dead,” he said. “I should have brought flowers.”

“Maybe next time,” Kakashi suggested. “Roses as red as the blood of my enemies would have been fitting.”

Iruka moved past him, heading deeper into the house, and as he did his hand brushed against Kakashi’s so lightly that it could have been an accident.

“Roses,” Iruka said thoughtfully. “Maybe next time.”

  


* * *

  


Sasuke was used to doing things he didn’t want to, but that didn’t make them any easier. He didn’t want to go to the ANBU safehouse, he didn’t want to deal with Naruto asking a million questions that their ANBU minders answered in vague platitudes, and more than anything he didn’t want to be seized with this white-knuckling, teeth-tightening terror. Yet it would not let him go.

He remembered the night his family had been killed. Not well, and what he retained in the sharpest clarity were impressions rather than images, but he remembered. He didn’t know if it had been his mother or his father who had shut him in the hidden spot behind the wall, but he remembered the darkness. It had been absolute, and it had scared him more than what was happening outside because he didn’t know then that his parents were dying downstairs. Didn’t know what death was, had never had to wrap his mind around the idea that people could become spoilt like a jug of milk left carelessly out of the fridge too long.

He didn’t remember Itachi’s death, though he knew he’d been there at the end. All he remembered after coming back into the dim light of the house was the safety of Iruka’s arms, and there was a gap between Iruka lifting him out of the scary dark place and then Iruka carrying him as he ran. Somewhere in the black hole in between, Sasuke’s brother had died right in front of his eyes.

He hated himself a little for forgetting the death he was honour-bound to avenge.

Not that he was likely to avenge anything while he was locked up under ANBU’s watchful eyes. Three operatives had smuggled him and Naruto through the streets and into a nondescript house not far out of the centre of the village. There were complicated series of seals stuck around each of the windows, which Snail explained cast an illusion over the glass to make the rooms inside seem empty to anyone peering in. Sasuke still felt uneasy when near the uncurtained windows, and when Naruto ran to press his nose to the glass and shout and wave at passers-by, a shudder ran through his whole body and he yanked Naruto back from the window with such force that they stumbled over each other and fell to the carpeted floor.

“What’s your problem?” Naruto whined. “I was just making sure it worked!”

“If anyone can break it, you will,” Sasuke spat with more venom than he’d intended. It was the embarrassment that made him lash out, the knowledge that the ANBU looked at him and saw a frightened child. The shame that they were right.

“Why don’t the two of you choose a bedroom each?” Snail suggested. “There’ll be at least two ANBU here with you the whole time but we’ll be trading off shifts so you’ll always have someone fresh-faced and caffeinated to keep an eye on things.”

“How long do we have to stay here for?” Sasuke asked.

“Hopefully just the one night, but it might be a little longer.”

“Do we get to skip school?” Naruto asked, eyes wide and eager.

“Yeah, but Kakashi threatened to send you homework.” At Naruto’s crestfallen expression he added, “If you want some help, I promise not to tell.”

“Really?” Naruto brightened. “Awesome!” With that decided, he turned and left the room to dash up the stairs and get first choice of the bedrooms.

Sasuke stayed where he was. He was working his way around a thought, and Snail waited patiently for him to voice it.

“Iruka isn’t here,” he eventually said.

“He’s busy working somewhere else,” Snail said. “He probably won’t be able to come visit tonight, but I’m sure he’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“But he was there too. That night.”

Snail hummed in agreement. “Are you worried that Obito might want to hurt him?”

Sasuke looked down at the carpet between his feet. It was a neutral blue and had the slightly dusty look of a place that had gone unlived in for some time.

“There are lots of other ANBU,” he said. “Why does Iruka have to fight him? Can’t someone else do it instead?”

“He won’t be alone,” Snail assured him, like that would make a difference. Didn’t he know how many people Obito had killed with only one accomplice? “He wants to protect you.”

Sasuke scowled. “Well I don’t want him to. His sharingan doesn’t even work properly. He isn’t strong enough to be ANBU – he never even wanted to join!”

Snail hesitated, but before he could reply, the front door opened with a quiet click. Snail instantly turned and put himself in the doorway, and he didn’t relax when he saw who had entered the safehouse.

“Danzou-sama,” he said, and there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped back, and an old man entered the room. Sasuke had seen him once before, shortly after his family’s death along with the other important and nameless figures who had flocked around him in the aftermath, deciding his future for him. He’d forgotten most of them, but he remembered Danzou because of his distinctive appearance. His right eye was heavily bandaged, as it had been five years ago when they’d first met, and he had a cross-shaped scar on his chin. When his gaze fell on Sasuke, there was no warmth in it.

“I’ve just come from a meeting with the hokage,” Danzou said. “And I wanted to come check on the situation for myself.”

“Protocol states that no unnecessary personnel should enter a safehouse when it’s in use,” Snail said, and Sasuke wasn’t sure but he thought the bland tone held implicit disapproval.

“I’m well aware of the protocols,” Danzou said. He didn’t so much as glance at Snail, wholly focused on Sasuke. “I helped write them.”

“Then what’s so important you had to break your own rules? Is there something I need to know?”

“No,” Danzou said. “I need to have a quick talk with Sasuke and then I’ll leave you to do your job. Although I must say I’m surprised to see you in charge. Surely there are other ANBU better suited to the job. I’m surprised Sandaime-sama isn’t treating this situation with the gravity it deserves.”

“I’m sure Sandaime-sama knows what he’s doing,” Snail said blithely. “There’s a reason why he’s the hokage, after all.”

Danzou did look at him then, a sharp glance that didn’t seem to bother Snail. Sasuke decided that he disliked Danzou intensely.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Danzou turned back to him, and his one-eyed stare reminded Sasuke of Iruka. But where Iruka’s eye held so much warmth that Sasuke often felt scorched by it, Danzou’s was cold. 

“Could I have a moment alone with Sasuke-kun?” Danzou asked. He didn’t look surprised when Snail leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, letting his body language answer for him. “Insubordination is not a character trait that survives for long in ANBU.”

“I’m not your subordinate,” Snail said.

There was another ripple over Danzou’s expression, and then his face smoothed out as he finally deigned to speak to Sasuke rather than speaking over his head.

“Are you familiar with the name Namikaze Kushina?” he asked.

“She was the fourth hokage’s wife,” Sasuke said. Kakashi had spoken about her at length in their history lessons, and even though Sasuke tuned out most of the lessons that didn’t relate to the shinobi arts, he’d absorbed that much.

“Did you know she was a close friend of your mother’s?” Danzou asked.

That was a detail Sasuke hadn’t known. He stood a little straighter, and hated that this strange old man knew more about his mother than he did.

“So what if she was?”

“Since your parents’ tragic death,” Danzou said with the same inflection one might use for ‘since your parents’ trip to the grocery store’, “have you found any possessions in your family’s compound that might belong to the Namikaze family?”

Sasuke frowned and glanced at Snail. He knew there’d been something ANBU wasn’t telling him.

“Why would there be any of their stuff in my house?” he asked.

“Obito was her student,” Danzou said with exaggerated patience. “And your mother was her friend. It strikes me that perhaps if Kushina wanted to keep something safe, she might have entrusted it to one of them.”

“I haven’t found anything like that,” Sasuke said. “What are you looking for?”

“Danzou-sama, I’d rather you didn’t –” Snail started, but Danzou raised a hand to cut him off.

“A book,” he said. “A workbook full of seals. Do you know what I mean?”

He was holding Sasuke’s gaze without blinking, and his old rheumy eye was watering. Sasuke felt a wave of disgust.

“No,” he said flatly. “It isn’t in my house.”

Danzou regarded him for another long moment, and Sasuke glared back. Then Danzou turned to Snail as though Sasuke wasn’t worth further scrutiny.

“A shame,” he said. “Though I suppose it would be too much to hope for that the boy could help us.”

“You’ll be leaving now then,” Snail said.

“There’s certainly nothing to be gained here.”

Snail stood up off the wall.

“That was some hunch you had,” he said. “Considering Obito is searching for this book, wouldn’t he have taken it with him if it had been in the Uchiha compound?”

Danzou was already on his way out of the room.

“I’m sure he had many other things on his mind that night,” Danzou said. “As you said, it was merely a hunch, but some of us like to be thorough.”

Snail followed him down the hallway, and Sasuke heard a few more muttered words exchanged between the two before the front door shut, and he watched through the window as Danzou walked away.

“Did you lie to him?” Snail asked behind him.

Sasuke shook his head, gaze still on the retreating figure of Danzou.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Does Obito want that book?”

“So he says.”

“What do the seals do?”

“Something dangerous, I imagine. Do me a favour and don’t tell Naruto about this, all right?”

Danzou disappeared around a corner and Sasuke stepped back away from the window and turned to look at Snail.

“Because Kushina was his mother?” he asked, and was disappointed that Snail didn’t react to this bombshell of forbidden knowledge.

“Exactly,” was all he said. “If you upset him, Kakashi will kick my ass, and not even in the fun, homoerotic way.”

Sasuke squinted at him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing!” For the first time, Snail sounded a little flustered. “Forget I said anything! Now go and choose your bedroom.”

As Sasuke trailed up the stairs, he thought he heard Snail mutter from the room below something about Iruka, language and kids.

  


* * *

  


By the time dusk was falling, Kakashi had trapped the Hatake compound to within an inch of its life. He was currently putting the final touches on the trees that lined the back of the compound grounds – couldn’t expect Obito to use the front door like a civilised person, after all. Iruka had supervised, which meant standing around and criticising; this was helpful when the criticisms were aimed at the traps and less helpful when they were aimed at the state of his house.

“Look, I share this space with a ten-year-old,” Kakashi said in his own defence. “And as a harried, overworked teacher, sometimes I have to just leave the kid unsupervised and pray that the worst thing he’s shoving under his bed is dirty laundry.”

“But in the fridge?”

“I don’t know what the socks were doing there either. It might have been his idea of a prank. Be glad your terror doesn’t think he’s funny.”

“It’s worse when they think they’re edgy,” Iruka muttered. “I’m just waiting for the day he paints his room black and grows his fringe down over his eyes.” He paused and pulled a face. “God, we’re too young to be talking like dads pushing forty.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m ready for a midlife crisis,” Kakashi said, squinting up into the trees to make sure his final trap was hidden. “I could buy a mint first edition collection of the whole Icha Icha series and pay Tenzou a lavish fee to build me an ostentatious bookcase for them all.”

“That’s your idea of a midlife crisis?” Iruka asked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to smile. “Expensive trashy books?”

“And of course I’d have an illicit affair with a younger man. Though since I’m not in my forties I’ll have to cap the age difference at five years tops.” He turned to Iruka as though only just realising something. “Say, you’re younger than me. How about it, want to have a passionate and forbidden liaison sometime?”

Iruka’s smile was breaking through. “If only you had a husband you could divorce for me. That would really bring an element of drama.”

“I would divorce my imaginary husband for you in a heartbeat, Iruka,” Kakashi said, laying a hand over his heart. “Our marriage was never going to work out anyway. We have so little in common – I’m real and he isn’t. It’s one of those divides that simply can’t be overcome.”

By now, Iruka was laughing. “You’re such a dork!” He smacked Kakashi lightly on the arm and then left his hand there, warm against the lowering evening temperature.

The sky was pink and orange in the horizon behind the house, but the colours had faded from the first bright bursts of sunset. Among the trees, the light was getting dim. It made Iruka’s eyes seem larger and darker, and they had to stand closer to see each other clearly. The rest of the world felt further away.

“We should go inside,” Iruka said, hand still lingering on Kakashi’s arm. “Have some dinner and then settle down to wait.”

That brought back some of Kakashi’s nerves. Iruka had done a good job of distracting him, even as he built the traps to ensnare his former friend, but not even Iruka could banish Obito’s presence fully, and it came back now to all the dark, watchful spaces on the compound grounds.

“Do you think we’ve done enough?” Kakashi asked, gaze roving over the trees and the grass and the house, cataloguing every weak point. There were so few, and yet more than none was too many.

“You’ve done all you can,” Iruka said. “Now it’s my turn, and I promise you, Kakashi – I will never let you down.”

  


* * *

  


The night came slow in Konoha. Compared to the darkness of the woods and the fields and the mountains, night never came at all. The darkness was full of a thousand electric lights, enough to reduce the stars to a few glimmers even on a cloudless night. Obito had seen the stars from lands with no habitation for miles and miles. He had known true darkness and the beauty it revealed. The village was crass by comparison.

It was risky to spend so much time in a neighbourhood full of clan compounds, but riskier to move around, and so he’d used a mild genjutsu over the mouth of an alleyway and hung back to wait. Any passers by who had glanced his way had seen only a dirty, empty space, and no one had ventured off the main street to disturb him. Lucky for them.

Once darkness had fallen, he’d used a henge to move through the streets unnoticed. He didn’t have far to go, and even now he remembered the way through the back alleys with such clarity that he barely had to think. Not many people were out on the streets, but he recognised a few faces as they passed, and each one filled him with disgust. Look at them, all so content with their lives here, turning a blind eye to the rotten core of the village, or so naïve they hadn’t noticed the stench of it.

The compound was dark when Obito finally reached the gates. He perched on the roof of one of the buildings opposite, to give him a view over the walls, although the darkness in the compound was so thick that he could only make out the hulking shape of the main building. He wasn’t sure how long he waited for, but he let the night stretch on until the darkness became wearisome and the streets had long emptied. At no point during his vigil was there any movement from inside the compound walls.

Finally, when his muscles were starting to cramp, he dropped down silently to the street and crossed to the large wooden gate. There were no streetlights here, but his eyesight had adjusted to the darkness enough that he could make out the nameplate on the gatepost, and he couldn’t resist raising a hand to trace the characters engraved in the metal.

 _Uchiha_.

He had thought when he’d last left that he would never enter his old home again. It would have been better that way. But needs must.

Of course, he had long been removed from the wards, but there were ways around that. He reached into an inside pocket of his travelling cloak and withdrew a small glass jar, enforced with seals to be unbreakable. He infused it with a little chakra to unlock it, and then carefully unscrewed the lid, wrinkling his nose at the scent of the strong preserving chemicals within. With more tenderness than he had shown anything since Rin’s death, he plucked out the small object that floated in the liquid, holding it lightly between forefinger and thumb so as not to damage it, and then he held it up to the door.

The wards tasted it, took a moment longer than they might if it had still been living, but then parted at the doorway to let him through. Obito dropped the sharingan eye back into its jar and sealed it tight before he pushed the gate open and let himself inside. He hadn’t been certain it would work, but it seemed the dead had permission still to enter the place where they’d lived.

He closed the gate behind him and tucked the jar safely back into place, then allowed himself to look at the old, familiar buildings. It was uncanny how pristine it all looked. Somehow, he’d expected the compound to bear the marks of what he’d done here. It would have been fitting for it to have aged a hundred years, to have fallen to ruins, the grounds overgrown and choked with weeds and thorns. That would have felt right. Yet the only sign that anything had happened here was the unnatural stillness. It was a memory preserved, as the eye in his pocket had been preserved, although the eye was more honest in its nature: no one could look at it and think it was anything other than the aftermath of violence.

There was one left, of course: Fugaku’s youngest son. Obito let his feet take him silently through the compound streets towards Fugaku’s home. He regretted only two things from that night: that Shisui had died and that the boy had not. Iruka too, although Obito hadn’t known his name then. He should have killed them both before they’d had the chance to grow up. Well, Iruka had grown up. Fugaku’s boy – no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember his name – was still very young.

He was almost at the door to Fugaku’s home when he felt the second presence. It was no more than a breath of chakra, barely detectable, but Obito had honed his paranoia well. He stopped walking and turned his head. There was nothing there, or nothing he could see with ordinary eyes, and he didn’t want to use his sharingan unless he was left no choice.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

For a beat, there was no answer. And then a shadow moved, and a figure stepped out from a between the buildings just enough that Obito could make out the porcelain mask that covered its face, and the black cloak covering everything else.

“I see Danzou is still doing well,” Obito said. “How disappointing.”

“He thought you might return to the scene of the crime,” the Root agent said. “And he was kind enough to let me in to welcome you home.”

It was hard not to reach for the eye in his pocket, knowing that its partner had allowed the enemy inside.

“What does he want?” Obito asked. He could kill this agent if he had come alone, he was sure of that, but he didn’t trust the shadows, and, more than that, he didn’t trust Danzou. If he was able to kill this agent then it would only be because Danzou wanted him to.

“He’s heard what you’re looking for,” the agent said. “Or what you claim to be looking for. He was under the impression that you’d taken Kushina-san’s book with you on the night you left the village.” 

“Yes, he made that very clear when he sent his goons to try and beat it out of me,” Obito said, gesturing to his scarred face. “I hadn’t thought about that cursed book for a long time.”

“You’re saying you truly don’t have it?”

Obito heaved a sigh. He’d never fit in well with Root. They were all so damned stupid in a well-trained way. Unable to let go of an idea until they’d beaten it to death and then inspected the corpse from every angle.

“Would I be here if I did?” he asked, and then added, in case the agent needed help, “No, I don’t have the goddamn book.”

“But you came looking for it when you heard Danzou-sama wanted it,” the agent said patiently. “Why?”

“Because I’ve learnt that if Danzou- _sama_ wants something, it’s best to keep it away from him.”

The agent watched him for a moment. Apparently he couldn’t think and speak at the same time.

“I find it hard to believe you’d risk coming back into Konoha purely to stop Danzou-sama from getting his way.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Obito said. He was quickly losing patience. “Were you sent here to try and kill me or will you let me leave quietly?”

“You’re welcome to search the compound if you want,” the agent said. “I won’t stop you, and I won’t alert ANBU.”

“Of course you won’t. The last thing Danzou needs is Hiruzen getting involved.”

“Is that why you let yourself be seen?” the agent asked, and Obito was almost impressed. Perhaps there was a brain underneath that mask after all.

“It’s evened the playing field,” he said. “Fair’s fair. Hiruzen may know I’m in town, but he knows where Danzou lives. Tell your master to watch his back.”

“He always does, Uchiha-san.”

That name was a barb, but Obito had known its sting every day of his life and he barely felt it now.

“Tell me one last thing,” he said. “Sate my curiosity on one point and then I’ll leave. Sharingan Iruka – is he one of yours?”

The agent hesitated, assessing the question before he answered.

“He’s loyal to Sandaime-sama,” he said. “Always has been, always will be.”

“So all three of us have a sharingan,” Obito mused. “After I worked so hard to wipe them off the face of the earth.”

“If you’ve grown tired of your own, Danzou-sama will be happy to take them off your hands.”

Obito bared his teeth. It was not a smile. “I’m sure he would. Tell the old man to go fuck himself, and the next time he wants to have a chat, he should have the balls to do it in person. Before I’m finished with this godforsaken town, I’m going to take back what he stole. That’s a promise.”

Before the Root agent had chance to reply, Obito brought his hands together, and then he was gone.


End file.
